


Waiting

by maggief



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5x13, Feels, Gen, Immortal Merlin, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggief/pseuds/maggief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is dead, yet Merlin must still wait. Very short post-finale fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> I have been an Arthurian fan for about as long as I could read. And the reincarnation aspect was always my favourite. This will be all I write from now on, it is our final canon.

Being an old man was easier, the spell as natural as breathing now. Fewer people noticed him that way, fewer people questioned. An old man could move on after a couple of years and people would just assume that he had died. Move on, new town, new life.

And yet, not at all. It was still the same life, never ageing, never dying. Living every day with the regret that he couldn’t save his King. He’d seen the future, he knew Mordred would kill Arthur, and he couldn’t change a damn thing about it. It had all been for nothing.

They had built the great kingdom prophesised, but Arthur was not there to see it, and without Arthur, Merlin couldn’t face it either. What was Camelot without Arthur? 

It was strange, nowadays. So many people knew his name, knew his legend. But they would still sneer at him in the street, still ignore the dirty tramp in the doorway. If only they knew. But what did it matter? His magic had existed for Arthur, and without the other man, he may as well be the dirty old tramp they all saw him as.

None of them knew his pain, couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. He’d spent the last millennium alone, waiting and waiting, for a man who wouldn’t come. The time of sword and sorcerer was past; what good would Arthur be even if he did return?

He’s thought about ending it so many times, but deep down he knows – he cannot die. And still, as well, still there’s that tiny thread of hope, that what if. What if Arthur comes back? And then Merlin is not there waiting for him. Merlin was born to serve Arthur, and he can only assume that if he is not dead yet, then he still has that purpose. He can still hope.

Hope is the only thing that gives his life meaning. He has no friends, no family. Just an eternity of waiting. Waiting for his king to finally return.

And it starts like any other Tuesday. It’s summer, so he’s been sleeping in the woods. He prefers it out there, there’s no people, no technology. He can almost pretend that everything’s alright. He’s setting a snare for a rabbit trap when suddenly he’s on his knees, the most excruciating pain he’s ever known piercing his mind like hot pokers. He vomits what little is in his stomach onto the forest floor and curls up around himself, his only wish in the world for this pain to end.

It’s hours before he’s aware of his surroundings again, but as soon as he’s conscious, he knows, as sure as he knows that left is left and the sun is in the sky. He knows that Arthur has been reborn this day, his king has returned.


End file.
